We'll Take a Cup of Kindness Yet
by princessozmaofoz
Summary: As DCS Innocent plans the first ever Oxfordshire Police New Year's Eve Charity Ball, Dr Hobson wonders what impact the grand event might have on her relationship with DI Lewis. Pure fluff.
1. Robbie's POV

_Disclaimer: I don't own Lewis or even the title of this piece which comes from the Robert Burns poem " Auld Lang Syne" and the traditional song derived from it._

__We'll Take a Cup of Kindness Yet

_Robbie_

Detective Inspector Robbie Lewis glanced down at the silvery font of the piece of parchment on his desk.

_You are cordially invited to the annual Oxfordshire Police New Year's Eve Charity Ball beginning at ten o'clock p.m. on December 31__st__ and concluding at two-thirty a.m. on January 1__st__. Additional information regarding the location, dress code, and cost of the event is included on the back of this card. To RSVP or if you should have any remaining questions, please contact the event coordinator DCS Jean Innocent at the telephone number provided on the back of this invitation._

Lewis reflected that it was a bit rich of Innocent to mark this ball as an "annual" event, considering this was the first time—to Lewis's knowledge at least –that the Oxfordshire Police had hosted any sort of formal dance. Of course, he couldn't really express this opinion—as the chief superintendent was taking all this extremely seriously, and "event coordinator" though she might have been, Jean Innocent was still his boss first and foremost.

After she'd handed out the invitations, Innocent had indicated her "strong encouragement" (though a better term might have been "veiled order") that everyone at the station attend, and because Lyn and the baby were spending New Year's with Tim's family this year, Lewis had no real convincing excuse for missing this ball.

He'd initially assumed that he and Hathaway would spend majority of the night sitting at a table together—sampling the refreshments and talking about anything and everything. However, James managed to surprise everyone by finding himself a date for the evening—the pretty younger sister of one of his band mates.

What was more, Hathaway was hardly the only one who was coming with an escort. All the other officers that Lewis had talked to had a date lined up for the ball. The famous Mr Innocent was even flying home a day early from his two- week business conference in Tokyo so that he could escort Jean.

Lewis knew that he had to find a date soon—or risk spending the evening totally on his own. The real problem was that he knew exactly who he wanted to go with—had known from almost the minute he learned about the event, in fact—but he didn't want to get his hopes up unnecessarily.

Detective Inspector Robbie Lewis had known Dr Laura Hobson for over ten years, and apart from Hathaway, she was probably his closest companion and his most-trusted confidant. But lately, he had started to notice that his heart beat double-time whenever the pathologist was around, and the realization had gradually struck him that maybe—just _maybe_—he wanted to be more than friends and that maybe—just _maybe—_Laura wanted that too.

But still, asking her to a _ball_ of all things? Would she think the idea was silly, juvenile even? Laura had always seemed so sensible and logical. Then again, women could surprise you every so often. Last week, Lewis had watched the chief superintendent—in _heels_, no less—change her own flat tyre in five minutes flat without a spot of help. If Jean Innocent of all people had a mechanical side, wasn't it possible that Laura Hobson had a romantic side?

Well, there was only one way to find out for sure. It had taken Lewis three days to talk himself into it. And as he stood there outside the station mortuary right now, he was still far more nervous than he could remember being in a very long time.

What if he was too late? What if someone had already asked her? It wouldn't have surprised him; Laura was a remarkable woman: intelligent, funny, kind, and very _very_ attractive. It was highly possible that she—like Hathaway, Innocent, and so many others—already had a date lined up for the evening.

_' And if she __**doesn't**__, Robbie?'_ a voice in his head asked. '_You'll never know until you ask.'_

He took one final deep breath to calm his nerves before going into see Laura.

The pathologist looked pleased to see him, albeit somewhat confused as to why he was there. "Robbie, if this is about the post-mortem…it's still not done. I thought I told you that I'd call when it's finished."

" It's not about the post-mortem. I just…I wanted to ask…if you'd like to go to the b—er… to go get coffee with me later today." He mentally cursed himself for losing his nerve at the last minute.

He thought he caught a gleam of genuine disappointment in Hobson's eyes as she replied. " I'd love to, Robbie, but I really can't. We're behind schedule here as it is, and you know, work comes first."

Lewis nodded. "I understand."

"I'll bet you do. From what I understand, you've got it even worse. At least the chief superintendent isn't trying to control _my_ social life. James has told me about this party she's making you all attend."

" It's not a party; it's a ball," Lewis responded instinctively, having already been corrected several times on this important distinction by Jean Innocent.

" What's the difference?" the pathologist asked, raising a curious eyebrow.

" Damned if I know," Lewis replied, and Laura laughed. "Nah, it shouldn't be too bad, really. I just…I might feel a little more confident if I had a proper date for this thing."

Hobson gave no clear indication of whether or not she'd picked up the inspector's hint. "I'm surprised; I'd have thought you'd have the ladies queuing up at your door."

"No such luck, I'm afraid. Besides, there's only one woman I'd want to go with, and she's not at all the type to queue up at men's doors."

"Sounds like my kind of girl."

"I should hope so."

" Why is that? Do I know her?"

Lewis grinned. "I'd say you know her very, _very_ well. " He took another deep breath and then finally said what he'd wanted to say for days. " Laura …would you you like to go with me to this year's annual Oxfordshire Police New Year's Eve Ball?"

" That's a bit of a mouthful isn't it?"

He shrugged." Don't blame me; the chief super's the one who named it. So…er…I don't think you ever gave me a clear answer; are you coming or not?"

"I wouldn't miss it for the world."


	2. Jean's POV

_Jean_

"I still don't believe you actually wear this," Dr Laura Hobson said laughing, as she held up a hideous cardigan with alternating red-orange and lime green stripes. "I mean, you've always had such nice taste, but _this_…" The pathologist shook her head disapprovingly. "To call it merely 'ugly' seems almost too generous of me."

Detective Chief Superintendent Jean Innocent shrugged. "_I_ don't have any choice in the matter. Mr Innocent bought it for me a few Christmases ago, and I have to wear it every so often to make him happy."

"Is he colour-blind or something?"

"No, I'm afraid he just has horrible taste." The two women glanced at each other again and started giggling like little girls again.

" Anyway…" Jean said once the laughter had finally died down. " We're forgetting the task at hand: finding you a ball gown in one of my old dresses. That is…_unless_ you'd rather go back to the store and buy that backless red number we saw," she teased." It'd certainly give Robbie a very warm New Years Eve."

"I think I'll pass. It's a little too daring for me."

"That's probably for the best. If Lewis were to see you in that, he'd probably go into cardiac arrest on the spot." Jean drabbed three dresses off the rack and handed them to Laura. " Here, go into the powder room and try these on."

Hobson did as she was told, and returned to the closet a few minutes later, in a sleeveless indigo gown that clung to her like a second skin.

" Sexy," Innocent remarked appraisingly, "very _very _sexy."

"A little too sexy, I'm afraid," Hobson replied, and Innocent raised a curious eyebrow. " I can scarcely breathe, and the zipper only comes up half-way."

Laura went back into her "dressing room" and emerged in a black velvet gown that she and Jean both agreed was much too large for her.

The third dress, a pale rose taffeta, fit remarkably well, but Jean could still sense that Laura was a little hesitant about it.

"What's the matter? It looks wonderful on you."

Laura shuffled her foot uncomfortably. " It's a very pretty dress, but isn't it a bit…too…too _pink?"_

Innocent mentally berated herself for her mistake. The chief superintendent now realized that she'd been picking out the dresses that _she _herselfwould've wanted to wear without stopping to consider that Hobson's taste might be different than her own. "Of course it is; how silly of me not to notice. Why don't we go look at some more together, and this time you can select the dresses you want to try on?"

Hobson agreed, and the two returned to their task. " You know what this reminds me of a bit?" the pathologist asked a few seconds later, "all the hours I spent playing dress-up with my neighbour Karen when I was about seven. Only it's better because unlike Karen, you actually _want_ to share."

"I used to play dress-up with my sister," Innocent said, smiling at the memory of two petite brown-haired schoolgirls clomping around in their mother's oversized high heels and old bridesmaid dresses. "But then, she discovered horses and spent all her spare time riding my aunt's horses. And well…the only thing I really liked about horses back then was Ewan, the Scottish boy with the dreamy green eyes who minded Aunt Jane's stables. "

"First love?"

Innocent nodded, blushing slightly in spite of herself. "Yeah. You?"

" Karen's older brother. And I wasn't subtle about it either. The poor lad must been so embarrassed, but he never let it show."

"What was his name?"

"Funnily enough, it was Lewis—Lewis Edwards, that is. He was always so lively and funny and sweet. Exactly the way I imagine Robbie was when he was younger—minus the Geordie accent of course."

The chief superintendent smiled, both at the image of Robbie and Laura as small children and at the appropriateness of Hobson's first and current loves both being called "Lewis."

The two women flipped through dresses in silence for a time before Laura finally spoke up. " I think…I think I might have found one that I like."

Innocent turned and instantly recognized the dress that Hobson was referring to: a floor-length gown, the colour of dark sage, with a wide, petticoated skirt and a vaguely Middle Eastern design of golden leaves and branches embroidered on the bodice. The chief superintendent couldn't help but be a bit surprised at Hobson's choice; it was very much "fairy-tale" gown, and Hobson had never struck Innocent as being the "fairy-tale" type.

_' Still,'_ the chief superintendent said to herself, _'I suppose most girls want to feel like Cinderella at least once in their life." _

Aloud, she said. " Pretty, isn't it? My mother made it for me to wear for as matron-of-honour in my sister's wedding."

Hobson's eyebrows rose in evident shock. " She made this herself?"

Innocent nodded. " Yes, she was a magician with a sewing needle—my mum was."

"It's _gorgeous_. Do you…do you mind if I try it on?"

Part of Innocent _did_ mind very much. Not only was the dress extraordinarily beautiful, but as one of the last things Jean's mother had sewn before her death, it also had incalculable sentimental value. However, watching Hobson lovingly finger the jade fabric softened something in the chief superintendent. Green _was_ a very pretty colour on Laura, and Jean was sure that the pathologist would take very good care of the gown.

" No, I don't mind at all," she said finally, and Hobson hurried to the powder room to try on the dress. When she re-emerged a few minutes later, she looked nothing short of radiant.

"How do I look?" Laura asked.

"Wonderful," Innocent said as she moved over to take a closer look.

" I _feel _wonderful, but…but do you think Robbie will like it?"

"Chances are Robbie will be so over-the-moon that he won't pay much attention to what you're wearing. The only real purpose of the dress is not to impress the man, but rather to impress_ yourself. _ Wear something that makes _you_ feel beautiful, and that confidence will be what makes you appear attractive to everyone else. So tell, me how _do _you feel right now?"

Hobson grinned. " I feel beautiful."

Innocent smiled back." And you look it as well. The dress fits you remarkably well, especially considering you're a little shorter and thinner than I am. There is one thing, though. The bodice is a tiny bit too loose. You'll have to tuck it in a bit, but you should have no trouble with that."

Laura frowned slightly. "I can't sew. Not properly anyway, and the last thing I'd want to do is mess up such a beautiful dress."

" I can probably take care of it for you, then. I'm not nearly the seamstress my mother was, but I can still hold my own."

Much to Innocent's astonishment, Hobson responded by throwing her arms around the other woman. "Thank you; I don't know how I can thank you enough," the pathologist said when they broke apart a moment later.

"Just have a good time, Laura; that's all the thanks I want."


	3. Laura's POV

_Laura_

Dr Laura Hobson woke at 11:30 a.m. on December 31st. Knowing that she'd be up well-after-midnight tonight, she hadn't set her alarm clock the previous evening. She had been amazed at how well she'd slept—especially considering how nervous she was about the upcoming ball and the dinner with Robbie beforehand. Reluctantly, Hobson crawled out of bed, put on her dressing gown, and got up to make herself a cup of coffee.

Holding her steaming mug in her hands, Hobson took a moment to look through her kitchen window so as to examine the delicate snowflakes falling gracefully onto her back lawn. The scene was so pretty, though Hobson knew it wouldn't stay that way for long. Today's weather forecast was predicting an intense three-hour long blizzard, complete with savage winds and over 8 cm of snow accumulation. The storm was supposed to stop by 5 at the latest, which left just enough time for the roads to be cleared for the New Year's Eve Ball to start at 10 o'clock as scheduled.

Laura finished her coffee, placed her mug over to the sink, and then went over to sit on her sofa. She picked up the remote and turned on the television—only to be greeted by the smug face and nasal inflections of her least-favourite politician, who (as usual) had nothing interesting or important to say. Hobson sighed and changed the channel.

A red screen with white lettering greeted her eyes: "O_ur holiday broadcast of It's a Wonderful Life will continue after these brief messages from our sponsors._"

Hobson smiled as she remembered the many times she'd watched this film with her mother at Christmastime. It had always been one of Mum's absolute favourites, and Laura genuinely liked it as well. She took advantage of the commercial break to make herself another cup of coffee and then hunkered back down on the sofa with her mug as the program resumed.

James Stewart's character—_what __**was **__his name; it was on the tip of Hobson's tongue—_had just arrived home in a taxi on a rainy evening. If Laura was remembering properly, it was the character's wedding night, and he and his wife had just given away all of their honeymoon money.

" Welcome home, Mr Bailey," said a pleasant female voice as James Stewart walked inside the house and observed the homemade "tropical honeymoon" that his new wife had prepared.

_ 'That's his name: George Bailey,'_ Hobson suddenly remembered. '_And his wife is…Martha? No wait… it's Mary. Yeah, that's it: George and Mary Bailey."_

Smiling, George surveyed the scene for a minute and then walked over to embrace his wife.

"Remember the night we broke the windows in this old house?" Mary asked as her husband held her in his arms. "This is what I wished for."

Laura sudden felt a strange sense of kinship with the other woman—fictional character though she may be. For most of the past five years, Hobson had been wishing on evening stars and birthday candles that she'd someday get the one thing she really wanted: Detective Inspector Robbie Lewis. She knew that it was a silly thing to do; after all, she was a strong-minded sensible woman—not some lovesick, sentimental schoolgirl. In spite of this, she just couldn't stop wishing, stop hoping, stop _praying_ even that one day Robbie would start seeing her as more than a colleague—albeit a trusted and valued one.

She couldn't help but wonder if it might happen tonight, couldn't help but remember how beautiful she'd felt when she'd first dried on the dress, couldn't help but imagine Robbie's face when he saw her in full ball attire. Hobson allowed herself a few more moments of fantasy before she returned her attention to the film.

_Seven hours later_

Laura Hobson studied her reflection appraisingly in the mirror. _Was it too much? Not enough?_ How was she to know for sure?

She reached up to touch a curled ringlet of blonde hair and wished she'd thought to ask Jean's advice before she'd placed her then-wet hair into curlers. She then remarked at how foolish this was. She was a strong, independent woman, more than capable of making her own decisions; she didn't need Jean Innocent as a crutch—even if Jean had much more experience in these matters than she did.

Besides, Laura didn't want to inconvenience the other woman any more than she already had. Today had already been stressful enough for Jean, especially with the blizzard threatening to jeopardize her plans. Fortunately, the storm had stopped by 4:30 as forecasted, though Jean still had to call to inform her guests that the ball was still on schedule for tonight.

Laura was still trying to work out how she was feeling about all this. She was so anxious about tonight that part of her felt that it might have been better if the ball was cancelled—because she was sure to make a fool of herself once she arrived. But on the other hand, suppose she _didn't_ make a fool of herself—suppose that everything went as perfectly as she'd dreamed it? The uncertainty was tormenting her.

After she'd finished scrutinizing her hair, Hobson turned her attention to her face. In honour of the special occasion, she'd used more cosmetics than she did on an ordinary day, but now she wondered if she might've overdone it. No, that was silly, of course. She'd only applied a tad more blush than she would have ordinarily and a slightly darker shade of lipstick. There was barely any change at all, and the little difference that did exist was appropriate for the situation.

Her skin looked fairly good too. It was clean and smooth, with the light lavender scent from her earlier bubble bath still lingering. Hobson briefly contemplated putting on some perfume as well but ultimately decided against it, sure that she would put on too much and off-put Robbie.

Finally, she glanced over at the dress, which was hanging on the towel rack of the bathroom. This was the most controversial element of all. How would Lewis react to seeing her in it? Unless she was mistaken, he'd only seen her in a nice dress one other time—at her charity concert for Gresham College. And that dress had been another matter entirely: sensible and unadorned—unlike the elaborate gown she'd be wearing tonight. She wondered briefly if he might laugh when he saw her in it, that he might think she looked frivolous and silly and not at all herself.

Then, she heard Jean's voice once again in her head. "Chances are Robbie will be so over-the-moon that he won't pay much attention to what you're wearing. The only real purpose of the dress is not to impress the man, but rather to impress_ yourself. _ Wear something that makes _you_ feel beautiful, and that confidence will be what makes you appear attractive to everyone else."

Laura glanced at the dress again. It had made her feel beautiful the first time she'd tried it on, and Jean had also complimented her on it as well. After a moment's hesitation, Laura took the dress off the hanger and carefully stepped into it. She pulled it on and then carefully zipped it up in the back.

No sooner had she done so than she heard a knock at the door. Her first thought was that Robbie was early, but then she realized that time had flown far more quickly than she'd realized. She quickly checked her make-up and hair one final time before going downstairs to answer the door.

" Laura…I…" Robbie appeared to be struck totally dumb from the moment he clamped eyes on her. " You…you look…" he said, struggling to form the words.

" Nice?" she said, trying to help him out.

" _Gorgeous,"_ he said finally, once he'd gotten his breath back, though his eyes were still as wide as saucers.

Any lingering anxiety that Laura still felt instantly faded away, and she soon found herself sporting a smile to match Robbie's broad grin. " Well thank you; you look pretty good yourself."

Robbie gave a slight nod of thanks and then reached into his jacket pocket withdrawing a delicate corsage consisting of a single yellow rose surrounded by baby's breath. " I picked this up for you; I hope you don't mind," he said, shuffling his feet awkwardly.

" Of course, I don't; it's beautiful. Will you tie it on for me?"

Lewis did so, and Hobson couldn't help but feel an electric tingle running through whenever his fingers accidentally brushed against her skin in the process.

" All done," Lewis said finally and then offered his arm to Laura. " Now, lass, what do you say we go and get ourselves some dinner?"

" I'd say that sounds like an excellent idea," said Hobson, quickly grabbing her coat before she headed out the door.


	4. James's POV

_James_

DS James Hathaway rolled the unlit cigarette between his fingers for a moment as he shivered slightly in the crisp almost-January air. He'd told Lewis and Hobson that he'd gone outside, so that he could have one last smoke before his New Year's resolution to quit kicked in.

It was only half-truth. The real reason that he'd gone was so that Laura and Robbie could finally have some proper time alone. When Lewis had learned that Hathaway's date had come down with the flu at the last minute, the inspector had gone out of his way to ensure that James didn't feel excluded from the festivities. It was clear that Lewis thought he had no right to enjoy himself if Hathaway wasn't enjoying himself as well. Hathaway found the whole thing rather touching—if somewhat irritating. By trying so hard to include James, Robbie was inadvertently neglecting Laura—his _official _date for the evening. Instead of whirling the elaborately gowned pathologist around the dance floor, Inspector Lewis had spent majority of the past hour-and-a half making sure his socially awkward sergeant always had a plate full of exquisite dark chocolate truffles and a glass brimming with champagne, until Hathaway had finally managed to excuse himself.

Fervently hoping that Lewis and Hobson were using his absence to spend some quality time together on the dance floor (or better still under the mistletoe), Hathaway brought the cigarette up to his mouth and was about to light it when a familiar voice distracted him.

" Blowing off my party—are you, James?" asked Chief Superintendent Innocent asked as she walked toward him.

" I wasn't, ma'am. I was just…I fancied some fresh air..."

_'And polluting my lungs with nicotine, thereby making impossible to get a breath of fresh air. Well done, James. She's never going to buy that excuse,' _he thought as he quickly slipped the unlit cigarette into his jacket pocket.

" Don't worry, sergeant; I was only teasing. I guess I'm just a bit surprised you're not currently waltzing some pretty little PC onto cloud nine."

" I'm afraid my waltz is a little rusty." Hathaway smiled slightly as the bittersweet memory of the last time he'd "waltzed" came to mind.

After her parents had bought her the videotape of _Sleeping Beauty_ as a birthday gift, Scarlett Mortmaigne had insisted on re-enacting the final ballroom scene with James as her prince. Although Hathaway had vehemently protested at the time (as any self-respecting nine-year-old boy would've done), truthfully, he hadn't really minded much. It had been sort of nice in a way—having an innocent excuse to hold Scarlett in his arms, allowing himself to believe for a moment that she really was his princess. He wondered now how he'd ever been so foolish. Happily Ever After wasn't for the likes of him—assuming it even existed at all.

" Still…" Jean added a few minutes later and snapped James out of his reverie, " I can't blame you for needing a break; I certainly did."

" But everything's done now. Your party is a success. Just calm down, relax, and enjoy yourself."

" When have you ever known me to 'just calm down and relax'?" Innocent added, and Hathaway laughed. " And much as I want to enjoy myself, I…I don't think I can."

" Try. It shouldn't be too hard. The music is fantastic, the food delicious, the decorations gorgeous, and the champagne peerless."

" And what of the company?"

" Delightful," he said, and she gave a reluctant smile. "Present company excluded naturally," he added.

Jean seemed not to have caught his teasing tone for she stared out blankly into the distance. " Yes, I expect I haven't been very pleasant tonight," she said—more to herself than Hathaway. "I really should try to change that—though it's far easier said than done."

Though Hathaway was curious as to what exactly had prompted Innocent's current sombre demeanour, he knew better than to pry into her personal business. " Don't be silly. When you're not shouting at me, you make a very charming conversationalist, and you look lovely tonight."

It was true. The chief superintendent was elegance personified in a sleek, gold-belted, floor-length, one-shouldered deep violet gown.

" Flattery will only get you so far, sergeant," Innocent said as she absently reached up to touch one of her dangling amethyst earrings.

"Don't be so quick to brush off compliments, ma'am—particularly not sincere ones."

" Well, then thanks, I suppose. You look rather dapper yourself."

Hathaway shrugged. He always felt out of place at posh white tie affairs—mostly because they reminded him so much of the Mortmaignes and the other titled- but-ignoble families he'd met over the years. James couldn't even don a dinner jacket without Scarlet's bitter " You're not one of us" ringing in his ears.

Desperate to change the subject, Hathaway glanced around, his eyes eventually locking on the glistening snow blanketing the ground and dusting the trees and buildings. " It's beautiful out—isn't it? The snow—I mean. It's the perfect touch for a holiday party."

" I hate it," Innocent said, and he looked at her in surprise. " Well, I suppose it's pretty enough, but when you think about all the trouble it's caused... For awhile, I didn't even know if the blizzard would stop in time for the ball, and we'd have to cancel. Even when it did, I still had to make sure that the caterers and the string quartet would still be able to come—as well as phoning everyone to make sure they knew the party was still on. And then of course, whenever there's a bad storm, there's always confusing detours, traffic accidents…_delayed flights_." Her voice wavered slightly as she said those last two words.

Ah, so _that_ was what was getting her down. " Ma'am, your husband?"

The chief superintendent gave a slight nod. " He was supposed to be back by 4:30, but because of the storm… they pushed it back until day after tomorrow." She straightened her posture in an attempt to appear composed. " You…you must think I'm horribly silly, whinging about all this."

"No one could ever accuse you of being silly, Jean, and your disappointment is understandable."

" I guess I was just really…really looking forward to this—to having this one romantic moment together. But I suppose I was just being naïve. He's already missed Valentine's Day, Easter, our anniversary, and Christmas this year. Why should New Year's Eve be any different?"

A few tears were now streaking down her cheeks, and Hathaway instinctively reached into his jacket pocket for a tissue. Instead he found a lacy handkerchief that must have been left there by the person who'd rented the suit before him. He handed it to Jean who gently dabbed at her eyes and then handed it back to him.

" Thanks. I suppose I must look quite a fright now."

" No, as I said before, you look wonderful."

" So my make-up's not all messed-up?"

"Your mascara isn't even running."

She winked. " It's waterproof."

" That's one of the things we love about you, ma'am; you're always prepared for anything."

" I'm _not_ very prepared for this weather," Innocent said as she rubbed her bare arms. "It's freezing. Why don't we go back inside?"

Hathaway agreed, and the two re-entered the ballroom. They each grabbed a glass of champagne from a passing server and watched the couples whirling around the dance floor.

" They look so happy—don't they?" Innocent remarked, seemingly casually although Hathaway detected a slight note of envy in her voice.

" Hmm?"

" Robbie and Laura."

Hathaway followed the chief superintendent's gaze and reflected that "happy" was a bit of an understatement. Though their waltz was more than a little clumsy, Hobson was positively glowing, and Lewis's grin was as wide as the Cheshire Cat's.

The string quartet was playing "Auld Lang Syne," and Hathaway found himself wondering what the upcoming year would bring for the couple. And what of Hathaway himself—or even of Innocent come to think of it? In fact, the only thing that Hathaway was totally and completely sure of was of the occasional sorrow and frequent joy he'd felt over this _past_ year. "They _do_ look happy," he said finally. "Ecstatic in fact."

" At least some good came of all this hard work, then." Innocent sighed dreamily. "Isn't it wonderful when two people who so obviously belong together finally find each other after long last?"

"I never had _you_ pegged as a romantic; you're much too practical," Hathaway remarked, giving the chief super an appraising look.

"I like to think there's a bit of the romantic in all of us—even in grave little introverts like you."

" Grave and introverted, I'll give you, but I think you and I can both agree that there's nothing 'little' about me."

Jean laughed, acutely aware of just how much she had to strain her neck upward in order to meet his gaze properly. " No there's not—is there? You're a great man, James Hathaway, in stature _and_ in character."

"Try to remember that the next time I do something to piss you off."

"Just promise you won't do anything tonight. I've worked too hard on this event to have you screw everything up."

He gave her his most mischievous grin. "It's funny you should say that, because I'm sort of getting the itch right now to create a bit of a minor scandal."

" You wouldn't dare!"

" Yes I would, and you're going to help me with it." He grabbed both of her hands and led her onto the dance floor. "Come on, Jean. I want to find out if your waltz is as quick as your wit."

THE END

**Many thanks to prosfan for her valuable insights on characterization and British culture. And a very Happy New Year to all of you!**


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